


[untitled]

by sodakissed



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Alternate Universe - Working Professionals, Background Junhoon, Happy Ending, Happy GyuHao Day, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mild Angst, One Shot, Slice of Life, Unplanned Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:15:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26370250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sodakissed/pseuds/sodakissed
Summary: I think that possibly, maybe, I’ve fallen for you.Yes, there’s a chance that I’ve fallen quite hard over you.//Drabble I wrote during GyuHao soft hours. Please enjoy :)
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	[untitled]

**Author's Note:**

> I may not be able to finish 1098 quite yet, but I hope this suffices u_u
> 
> Please leave a kudos and comment if you enjoy it :)

Minghao always wakes up before the sun.

He always wakes before the rays have a chance to cascade through their bedroom blinds and climb up their bedframe, over the rich wooden floorboards. He always stretches his arms out in front of him when he sits up—grasping at nothing to flex his fingers like a cat—and kicks his legs off the side to pad quietly into the living room. As always, he moves deftly through their home, closing the door behind him with the softest thud.

Minghao’s considerate.

He knows Mingyu endures late nights at the office, regularly scrambling as the company lackey, and can’t survive on less than 6 hours of sleep.

Some days, he thinks that they only keep him on board because he never shuts up. On those nights, Minghao cooks him dinner, draws hearts in the sauce, pours them half a glass of red, and rubs his back when they go to bed. He’ll wake to his suit steamed and pristine, hung by their balcony window next to a thermos of coffee and a donut from the shop across the street; a wordless way of saying ‘let’s try again’.

Some days, he’s showered in compliments for landing acquisition deals or breaking company quotas. On those nights, he takes Minghao out on the town. They go somewhere fresh and explore together, drop by a new gallery show, and feed ducks at the pond in the park. He’ll wake to his chest peppered in soft red kisses and the skin on his back sensitive from the vivid memory of wanton claws and a giggle on his lips.

Minghao always wakes up before the sun

He likes listening to the birds sing their morning song, and he likes watching the sun rise over the water of their beachfront condo.

It seems like not-so-long-ago they joked about living among seagulls and crabs, of sea salt whipping through their hair on early evening jogs where the sun would set the sky ablaze over the boulevard. Jovial and naïve, they would go on for hours upon hours burning time discussing fantastic aspirations and dreams.

Once-broke college kids can dream. Professional adults can strive.

After graduating, it was surprising how quickly they put their dreams into action. Minghao is arguably the luckier of the two, and he deserves it for how painstakingly hard he focused in university and how many professors and peers he worked with. Mingyu’s glad that he now comfortably has a dynamic career in design and curation for a multimedia company in town even when he has to get up so early. He does good work for a good cause.

He especially loves the off chance that he gets to clock out early and join Minghao on his work-related escapades. Whether it’s gathering insight on filming locations or taking pictures of dogs on the strip, it’s always so fun to see his eyes light up with inspiration when the right lighting hits. Mingyu often finds that he has to fret over Minghao falling from a risky and beautiful location, but the aftermath of the shot he takes usually makes it worth it.

Some days, Minghao gets quiet during dinner. He’s come to learn that he doesn’t like talking about work failures. He’s not often snippy, but on blue-moon nights like this, he’ll lash out if Mingyu pries too hard. It’s better not to touch, and Minghao takes the couch. They go to bed lonely. But before he falls asleep, half of his heart will crawl under the sheets and snuggle into his chest with a breathy apology. They’d stay up for an hour more talking things out, working smooth the bumps from the day, and Mingyu will try his very best to wake up early and make breakfast.

He never fails.

One day, Minghao gets promoted to director. And for a while, they see a lot less of each other. Normally, Mingyu makes it home by 7 and Minghao would have been lazing about the condo for at least an hour or two. After the promotion, Minghao sometimes makes it home at 5. Sometimes he’s out well past 11.

“I can’t help it, I have more responsibilities now.”

And Mingyu couldn’t properly articulate it then because he was confused. Minghao’s promotion bonus helped them get their current home, he still woke up before the sun and made Mingyu coffee just the way he liked, he still tagged along on work trips sometimes. But it wasn’t the same.

He never got to wake up to Minghao anymore. He stopped stumbling half-sleep-drunk into the living room to watch him meditate in the mornings. He was no longer able to communicate properly with the love of his life and it put a strain on their relationship.

“That’s fine. I understand.”

“Are you sure this is okay?”

“Yeah, totally.”

But they kept fighting and Minghao got exasperated by the end of six months. It surmounted into a very sharp, very crass comment that Mingyu still wishes he could suck back up into his careless mouth.

The night ended in him crying and Minghao calmly combing fingers through his hair, “Why didn’t you just say something six months ago? Why did you wait until now?”

How was he supposed to say that he felt Minghao had prioritized work over their relationship?

A fingernail runs along the cusp of his ear gently, “I thought this is what you wanted. We’ve always talked about living on the beach. You said you wanted a little more alone time to have your friends over. You told me you were okay with this-”

“I take it all back.”

But Minghao surprisingly chuckles and lifts his head, smearing his tears into his temples and putting their foreheads together, “Take backs are kind of hard, aren’t they.”

And they took a month-long break after that.

Went on a short tour to Seoul and Mingyu’s family’s hometown, then to Minghao’s family’s hometown. They laughed, they cried, and a lot of negative emotions were dug up. Mingyu thought he was ready to ask an important question at the ripe age of 26, but he wasn’t. And even though he brought it up hastily in the afterglow of a moonlit ferry ride, Minghao—who had just been out all day with his family—could not answer him without looking like he was about to shatter.

And they took a month-long break after that.

Minghao did not come home with him.

And Mingyu won’t forget how desolate he felt staring up at the ceiling of their otherwise vacant condo. The home he grew to love was no longer the way it was before. What did he do wrong? Where did he mess up? It’s always Mingyu-the-fuck-up-with-the-pretty-face. It’s always Mingyu who is the burden. It’s always Mingyu who is insensitive and doesn’t know how to communicate.

Minghao sends flowers every day, whether it’s one rose or a dozen.

Each without a note.

It’s the only thing that gets Mingyu out of bed in the morning because he has to answer the door for the delivery person, not work. He can barely hold it together at work. Work reminds him too much of the words he ushered in haste two months ago and he wouldn’t forgive himself for that either.

Every night, Mingyu calls and begs him to come home and Minghao just stays quiet.

“I can’t face you right now, I really can’t.”

But it’s never said with malice; always with the same heartbroken desperation that Mingyu feels in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m so sorry, Mingyu. I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this.”

And every night, Mingyu curls up with one of Minghao’s shirts, seeking out any trace of his scent with his nose, wishing for it to be the real him, wishing for it to be his warmth, his nails instead of buttons, his fingers instead of cable-knit, his skin instead of cotton.

But shirts don’t suffice.

Minghao always wakes up before the sun.

He bows to the sunrise when he does yoga and when he meditates.

And this morning he is bowing to Mingyu, hands trembling, sobbing next to their china cabinet with is luggage barely through the doorway.

He’d answered thinking it was the florist again and was surprised to see that it was certainly not.

Within minutes they were both blubbering messes entangled in each other’s arms and Mingyu almost knocked over a vase. And Minghao, who struggled so hard to hold his composure through a proper apology and explanation, could do nothing but hold Mingyu tighter than he’s ever been held.

They don’t let go of each other for the entire weekend.

Their tears only stop for hours at a time.

He’s never sure if they are joyful or sorrowful, pained or pleasured, but knowing that they both felt the same way while separated was enough for all to be forgiven. Mingyu understands the nuances, he’s had that fight and that discussion before, but not all families are created equal.

They’ll fight the future together. They’ll overcome hurdles together. They’ll have each other.

Love is patient. Love is a conversation.

Love is Minghao in his arms before he falls asleep.

Minghao always wakes up before the sun.

In the summer, it’s usually around 5. In the winter, it’s usually around 7.

There’s the rare chance that they stay up late watching movies and he sleeps in until 9. There’s the even rarer chance that he goes out with Soonyoung and company and doesn’t come home until 3. Mingyu likes those mornings the most because he’ll wake to Minghao spooled up in his arms, usually with a little toothpaste dried to the corner of his mouth and his hair greasy and disheveled with his stubble itching at his arm.

But on mornings like those, maybe for a few minutes at best, he’ll get to see his angel sleeping soundly and peacefully.

They’ve long evolved past caring about appearances and other gross human things—Mingyu was mortified the first time he farted in front of his soulmate—, and while he still likes to look good for his health and for his man, he’s also confident in knowing that Minghao would still love him if he was a worm.

“I’d take you around in that terrarium Chan got us for Christmas last year.”

Minghao always wakes up before the sun.

When he returned from Anshan and his remote work abroad, he asked his company about work hours and project responsibilities. They were able to negotiate for a cut-back and still let him keep his position for the excellent work he did.

When he returned from Anshan and his heartbroken plane flight, Mingyu could barely hold it together at work and amicably resigned. When Minghao returned to that surprise, he was quick to help Mingyu get a new position at a company closer to his where they could have lunch together despite both being busy. And while Mingyu still had to work hard, he was also allowed to be creative at this new job which led to even more colorful discussions during dinner.

Life was stable again. Peaceful for years to come.

“You look happy.” Seungcheol, his director, had told him one night at an after-hours office party at the pub down the strip.

“Do I?” He hadn’t thought the day was any different than normal.

The older man nods into his ale, “Way better than when I first met you.”

Minghao always wakes up before the sun.

“So, Mingyu,” Wonwoo sits on the edge of his desk, playing with the little metal puzzle Minghao had given him a few weeks ago, “when are you going to pop the question?”

And he flushes red just as the secretary solves it, “Question?”

Slyly, Wonwoo takes the empty wheelie chair from the next desk and spins around in it, crossing one leg over the other, “I dunno. After Minghao caught the bouquet at Jihoon’s wedding last month,” he fidgets with the metal pieces for a few seconds before his eyes snap above the rim of his glasses to pin Mingyu down, “have you thought about it?”

He laughs nervously, “Isn’t that, like, too many weddings in one year-”

Wonwoo’s face is running out of patience.

“I mean, of course, I’ve thought about it.” He’d already bought the ring four years ago.

They’re into their 30’s.

They have a home and two dogs.

They live on the beach like they’d joked about more than a decade ago.

They understand that life without the other would simply not be as vibrant or beautiful.

“No rush.” Wonwoo says suddenly, like he’s misstepped, “Every relationship has its own pace. Sorry if that was awkward-”

They’d been friends for a couple years already, it’s not awkward, “It’s not that. I just haven’t found the right time to ask.”

Mingyu never wakes up before the sun.

And today is no different.

He wakes up after the sun.

Minghao has made his half of the bed and he can hear the soft, droning music through their bedroom door. He’s meditating in the pools of sunlight on their living room floor with the main balcony doors thrown open to let fresh Spring air waft through the home.

Mingyu quietly pads over to their master bathroom and through the walk-in closet to pull out a shoebox full of memories.

He has old memories from high school in there; a perfectly round stone from the lake he visited with Seokmin the summer before he moved to Australia, a polaroid of him and Joshua at the top of a mountain with sunburns across their noses, and a paper ‘crane’ that Hansol had made him when they were bored out of their minds manning the dunk tank at the school fair.

Among other things, he has stacks of very long letters that Seungkwan wrote him after university when he had to move back to Jeju after studying abroad. Now that he has a little more money from working in the city, he plans to move back to the US in the coming months. Mingyu’s very excited about that.

At the back corner of the shoebox lies an entire bundle of pressed flowers from Junhui’s bouquet. The once soft and lively petals have turned dry and saturated after a month of sitting squished under Minghao’s collection of books, and after the time they’ve spent sitting in the shoebox, they look as if they’d turn to dust if Mingyu so much as sneezed on them.

And, of course, under the pile of flowers sits the thing he came in search for.

His stomach is suddenly aflutter as he reaches for the emerald velvet box adorned with the cutest, roundest, porcelain frog on top.

He palms the box for a minute, opening it and shutting it, opening it and shutting it, checking that the diamond-encrusted band is still in there and that he did not dream up the entire thing, and closing it again.

Mingyu must look a fool, sitting on the carpet of this stupidly large closet in his boxer briefs with his hair sticking up this way and that playing with an engagement ring-

A hand slaps down onto his shoulder and he curls up on reflex, kicking the shoebox under the winter coats and huddling over the closed box to hide its existence, “What do you have there?” Minghao’s sing-song voice is still laced with sleep.

“Nothing,” Mingyu stutters as he tries to unfurl and calm himself. He feels a weight rest behind him and the skin of Minghao’s bare chest press into his back. Lanky hands slide over his shoulders and a finger tilts his chin up so he turns around, “You’re done early.”

He usually goes until Mingyu’s ready for breakfast.

Minghao just tilts his head to the side, a grin playing against his lips that Mingyu can’t take his eyes off of, “Jeonghan asked me to go in early today.” A kiss is pressed to his cheek as an apology as he stands to shuffle through his shirts, “But,” he slurs and drags out, “that means I can cook dinner tonight.” He picks that one shirt and sweater combo that makes Mingyu’s heart flip, “Is that alright? It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, that’s more than- yeah, that’s- alright, cool.”

He barely quirks an eyebrow at him before heading to the shower.

That was a close one, Mingyu Kim. You idiot.

Mingyu’s day at the office couldn’t have gone any worse. Probably.

He got his tie stuck in the paper tray. He spilled Seungcheol’s coffee on the carpet. He tripped going up the stairs and Wonwoo had to spend 20 minutes helping him pick up the papers that rained like confetti. At the meeting that afternoon—unreasonably because of Mingyu’s daily fuck-up—, they announce that the department is going paperless. But he breaks the scanner he is given, and even though it takes his team the rest of the day to convince him that it’s not his fault, Mingyu still feels like a clown.

“Bad day?” Wonwoo asks as they clean up for the day, the sun glaring red through their floor to ceiling windows.

“Yeah, you could call it that.” he leans against the elevator call pad.

“Hey, we all have off days,” a firm hand pats him on the shoulder, “it’s just another day at the office.”

Mingyu licks his dry lips.

The nerves that have been stirring him up all day are getting more and more noticeable, “Actually,” maybe talking about it will help. He could use some positive encouragement, “it’s because of this.”

He lets the box peek out of his pocket and sees Wonwoo’s face light up, “Yes! Finally! Yes! Yes! Yes! You got this, Mingyu. You got this in the bag!” Among other things like ‘you’re finally putting a ring on it’ and ‘that’s such a cute ring box’ his ears feel muffled by his own heartbeat and he shudders before getting into his car and heading home.

He takes a deep breath.

Minghao’s already home. He can smell dinner waft up from under the door—he needs to make a note to have maintenance come and repair it before Winter—and into his nose and directly into his stomach. It gurgles impatiently. He’s starving, unable to eat much for lunch even though it was free hoagie day from his favorite sub shop.

And he holds it until he’s through the door.

But what greets him isn’t soft jazz like normal. Also, oddly, all the lights are off and the blinds are shut. Minghao never misses a sunset.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust before he notices rose petals leading in from their doorway. Baby’s breath fairy lights twinkle from the shelves and spotlights, little candle flames dance at his heels as he kicks off his shoes and makes his way past the kitchen.

The dining room is also vacant and the only thing taking him to where he needs to be is the smell of food. Yes, he overlooks the petals and candles because Minghao’s cooking is just _that_ good. Suddenly, he realizes that his face starts to hurt because he’s smiling so hard.

In the dimly lit living room, Minghao stands with his back facing Mingyu. It looks like he’s mulling over something, swaying this way and that. He’s wearing something that looks worn, like it came from another lifetime; casual, comfy, cozy, carefree. He turns when Mingyu clumsily drops his suit jacket onto the back of the couch.

“What’s this?” he laughs, catching Minghao off guard.

The center of their living room where the coffee table and carpet usually sit has been replaced with a raggedy picnic blanket. Dinner will be served on the floor tonight, cute.

“Hao?” he takes a step forward.

“You know, it’s been a long time since I felt this nervous.” He holds his hands together behind his back, rocking on his bare feet, inching closer to Mingyu until they’re only a few inches apart, “The night that reignited a dream.”

It hits Mingyu all at once.

The blanket, the outfit, the petals, the fairy lights-

It all rushes back at him.

Sometime during their sophomore year, it’s vague, but there was a homecoming event that a lot of clubs went to.

Valentine’s in September is how he remembers it. The beach was covered in corny couples’ stuff like this, and at the time, Mingyu was bored out of his mind. His friends wanted to meet people and mess around, but he’d just failed his first exam and wanted nothing to do with his major anymore. He didn’t even want to party. He just wanted to drink his sorrows, maybe get laid, maybe get high, and wake up in the morning and wash off the regrets of the past week.

He’d ditched his friends a few minutes ago and made his way off the boardwalk and onto the beach. University in this town was expensive, but it was along the coast and that made it worth it, he’d do it for the beach.

Something about waning horizons made it seem like his dreams of being someone to someone were just within reach. He longed for something. Anything to make all his decisions feel right. It’s the alcohol talking, he knows it. He’s not _always_ a fuck-up, only sometimes. And people only _sometimes_ chew him out for it, not always-

And then he trips over a scrawny boy sitting in the dark and barks at him for spilling his beer and they get into a fight because he kicked sand into his dinner.

And then they end up sitting out under the vast and empty night sky, so polluted with light from the party that the stars are only figments of their imagination, “I just want to be somebody.”

“You are somebody. I am somebody. We’re here, aren’t we?” Minghao’s voice was barely a whisper over the waves, “We worked hard and we’re here now.”

“I guess.”

Minghao’s silent for a long time.

“I’m just nothing. I’m amounting to nothing.” Mingyu sighs into another sip of his long-empty beer bottle. It’s always the alcohol talking, not his heart. Not his heart, “My parents sacrificed so much to send me to this bougie-ass college and I’m amounting to nothing.”

A weight shifts on the weathered plaid beach blanket, “Is that so?”

Minghao’s hovering above him, arms at either side of his head, “Yeah, I’m pathetic.”

He rolls his eyes and sits up, “How did you get here, then?”

“I just told you- were you list-”

“You had a dream, didn’t you?” Minghao bundles himself up in his flannel coat, the cold sea breeze stirring his long hair into his eyes as he looks out into the black nothingness that is the ocean, “You had a dream and you acted upon it. Whether you’re doing well right now or not, you had a dream that meant something to you.”

“Yeah, so?”

“I firmly believe anyone who has a dream, has a will, whatever you want to call it, has life in them and you are somebody sentient and living.”

“What makes you so sure?” Mingyu rolls onto his stomach to look out into the darkness as well.

“I guess you’re right. Nothing can be so sure.” He sighs and picks at his nails, holding his hands clasped over his knees, “But, if you’re nobody, then what does that make me?”

It’s always the philosophical asshats that get Mingyu when he’s totally drunk out of his mind after one beer.

“Maybe I’m a nobody, too.” Minghao cranes his neck to look at the illusionary stars again just as a patrol boat combs the shallows of the beach and shines a light into their faces.

In brief, Mingyu can see such mixed messages in his eyes. His features are still a blur, but his eyes etch and tug at something in his inebriated heart. Pain, loneliness, hopelessness, frustration- perhaps this is someone who shared his sentiment, and he regrets saying his words, “No.” He doesn’t even know what he wants to say anymore, but he was glad for a moment, for a night, that someone validated his feelings, “You’re not.”

Minghao’s silent for a long time.

Long enough for Mingyu to sit back up next to him, close enough for their shoulders to rub in the frigid night air. His friends had long clocked out and gone home along with most of the partying college kids. It was too cold, “I might be slightly buzzed right now,” that’s a lie, “but let’s make a deal.”

“Hm?”

“Until we graduate,” he doesn’t know how old Minghao is or what department he’s in or if he’s even reading the same book, “I’ll be a somebody for you.” he turns to look at him in the dark, “And you be somebody for me.”

“We’ve grown a lot since then.” He shuffles again, wrapping Mingyu in a hug, “We’ve been through a lot together, and,” he hesitates, “sometimes apart.” It hurts a little, “But this life I lead with you is so precious to me, know that I would never let it go.” He buries his face into his neck. Mingyu closes his eyes because even his cologne is the same as that night, “I would never let you go without fighting tooth and claw to the death.”

You are my morning.

You are my night.

“I know.”

And he lets go.

“Mingyu Kim,” his eyes flutter open to Minghao on one knee, sparkling ring carefully held out in a deep sapphire blue box, deeper than the ocean, lined with gold with the cutest, roundest, little porcelain dog perched on top, “will you marry me?”

\---

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this fic because I drew this [lowkey-spicy gyuhao](https://twitter.com/sodakissed/status/1303561040286740480) and thought I'd build upon it.
> 
> come say hi on [twitter](https://twitter.com/sodakissed)! :)


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